


Young Adult Friction

by arcadian_dream



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, F/F, Fluff, Frottage, Library Sex, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:38:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian_dream/pseuds/arcadian_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between the stacks, Millicent and Lavender discover that you can find what you never knew you needed in the most unexpected places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young Adult Friction

“I-I can't _believe_ he did that, Parvati; I just _can't_ ,” came the sniffling claim of disbelief from somewhere just beyond the nearest row of shelves. Hearing it, Millicent Bulstrode to rolled her eyes and sighed in strained exasperation.

“I know,” a saccharine voice replied (Parvati's, Millicent presumed). “I know, Lav. He's just - _ugh_. You deserve better, yeah?”

Millicent groaned, holding her head in her hands. She didn't know how much more of this she could take. It was just so - _frustrating_ to listen to: two supposedly (and at least _moderately_ ) intelligent (not Granger-intelligent, obviously but then, who _was?_ ; that girl was a freak) girls – young women, really – wittering away about _a boy_. Of all bloody things.

As if it was The End of the World.

“It's just,” Lavender Brown resumed, “it's just; he's my Won-Won, Parvati. At least, he-he-he -”

Here, she broke off, her words replaced by a strangled sob.

“Oh for _Christ's sake!_ ” Millicent spat, throwing her hands up. “That's it. That's _it._ ”

Standing, Millicent shoved her chair back angrily and rounded the shelves to see a Lavender's tear-streaked face twisting into an expression that was, Millicent thought, two things: stunned, and somehow offended, as if _she_ \- Millicent – had barged into the Great Hall during the start of term feast wearing nothing but a smile and a sense of smug self-satisfaction.

Which, of course, she hadn't.

“This is a _private_ conversation, Bulstrode,” Parvati said as she registered Millicent's arrival.

Millicent shook her head. “Private, is it?” she asked. “Then _why_ would you choose to conduct it _here_ , in the library? Hmm?”

“Yes, it _is_ private, and that - _that_ \- is none of your concern,” Parvati retorted, narrowing her gaze.

“No, you're right,” Millicent said, “it isn't. But the Potions essay I've got due tomorrow morning _is_ , and this, this _rubbish_ you two are carrying on with _isn't. helping._ ”

“Well _that_ ,” Parvati said, wagging a finger at Millicent as she approached, “is not my problem. _My_ problem is that _my best friend_ has just had her heart broken!”

“Parvati, please it's fine, really,” Lavender added, trying to draw Parvati out of the argument.

“No, it's not fine,” Parvati replied. “She's had her heart broken,” she repeated, returning her attention to Millicent.

“Oh for ...” Millicent sighed, resting her hands on her hips.

“Not that _you'd_ know anything about that, of course,” Parvati added under her breath in what could only be described as a poor attempt at pretending to conceal her comments.

“Alright, fine,” Millicent hissed. “ _Fine_. You want to go down that road, do you? Right then. You -” she thrust a finger at Lavender - “ _you_ need to _get a fucking grip_. So he dumped you. Big _fucking_ deal, Brown. You're _sixteen_ , did you really think you and – Christ, _Won-won_ , is that what you were calling him? - did you really think that you'd be with him forever? I've never heard anything so pathetic in all my life and -”

“Hey!” Parvati said, trying to curb the flow of Millicent's barrage, but Millicent didn't notice or, if she did, she'd decided to ignore it.

“- and you!” she resumed, turning her attention to Parvati, “you're just as bad, indulging that kind of rubbish, I mean _come on_.”

“Now just wait a minute,” Lavender said, getting to her feet, “Parvati was just being a friend and -”

“Although, I will give you something Patil,” Millicent interrupted, as though Lavender had said nothing at all. “You're right about him not being worth it. I mean, we are talking about _Weasley_ for Merlin's sake and you – yes, even _you_ \- deserve better.”

“Come on, Lavender,” Parvati hissed, taking Lavender by the hand as Millicent finished her tirade. “We don't have to listen to this. Not from _her_ , not from anyone.”

Shooting a final, withering glare in Millicent's direction, Parvati stepped brusquely past her, with Lavender in tow, looking back over her shoulder, dumbstruck.

-*-

The library, again. And Millicent sat, under the watchful, narrowed gaze of Madam Pince, poring over her recently-returned Potions essay. She had known it wasn't her best work (and even then, she knew her best work wasn't comparable to others') but she _did_ try (usually after a roaring Howler and a bollocking from her mother). But this - _this_ -

Clutching the parchment in her fist, she shook it in frustration. It wasn't good enough.

She didn't know what she was going to do.

There were tutors, she supposed. She could scan the noticeboard in the common room, and see if anyone was offering help (for, she assumed, a fee) with Potions, but she didn't like her chances. And this was just the sort of thing that her housemates might be inclined to laud over her.

Slughorn was the other option, but unless one was particularly gifted in the subject, or well-connected (neither of which Millicent was – at least, not well-connected _enough_ to satisfy the peculiar tastes of Horace Slughorn) he simply wasn't interested.

"Fuck," she sighed in exasperation. _"Fuck."_

"Language, Millicent," a voice admonished.

"Sod off," Millicent retorted, looking up from her essay to see Lavender Brown looking down at her and - _Bloody hell, was she smiling?_

"Oh," Millicent said, taken aback by the sight. Why, exactly, she wasn't sure: it was unsettling, certainly, to see her smiling but she suspected it might be more than that; and when the thought crossed Millicent's mind, _Christ, she's pretty_ , she _knew_ it was rather more than that.

Quite a lot more than that.

"What do you want?" Millicent said clearing her throat and trying to empty her mind of what it was she had just been thinking.

She hoped she wasn't blushing (oh _please_ don't be blushing).

"Relax, Millicent," Lavender replied, taking a seat at the desk. "I just wanted to come and say – um – "

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"Thanks?" Millicent was shocked.

"Yeah," Lavender said. "Thanks. For the other day. In the library. When you – well, tore me a new one, really."

 _Blimey. She was smiling. She **was** smiling._ Millicent couldn't believe what it was that she was hearing and, indeed, she cocked her head to one side – as though she'd suddenly, and without her knowledge, been cast in some kind of ridiculous pantomime.

The confusion must have been plain on Millicent's face because the next thing she knew Lavender had reached out and placed a hand on her forearm – it was at once both a conciliatory and consolatory gesture.

"So thanks. For talking some sense into me" Lavender said, quietly. Her voice was little more than that of a whisper: "I needed it."

Stunned, Millicent didn't say anything. She couldn't. She didn't even know where to begin. There was a part of her that almost – almost – felt bad about how harsh she'd been towards Lavender but then, there was a larger part of her that knew she was _right_.

Apparently Lavender knew that too.

"Well," Lavender said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over them. "That was all I wanted to say. I'll – let you get back to it." Standing, Lavender released Millicent's arm from her gentle grip and when she did, Millicent was shocked by how cold it suddenly felt; her arm, her wrist.

 _"Wait!"_ Millicent said loudly; too loudly she realised as Madam Pince's strained face appeared from around the corner her lips pursed to a degree that was unnatural (how _did_ she manage that? It was almost like her lips were being twisted inside-out, for God's sake).

"Wait, Lavender," Millicent said, reaching for Lavender's hand. "What are you like at Potions?"

-*-

This – this was bad. _Really bad_ , Millicent realised as she sat waiting for Lavender. She didn't know what she was doing. It was _insane_ to put herself through this: to situate herself _so close_ to Lavender, to _choose_ to do so – it was nothing short of torture. _Torture_.

Of course, Millicent had known it would be. She had known, that first night when she'd asked Lavender for help.

 _"What are you like at Potions?"_

What the _hell_ had she been thinking?

Well, that was easy, really: she'd thought that the flutter Lavender instigated in her belly was worth pursuing. She'd thought that the Lavender's gentle, innocuous touch on that night _meant_ something. She'd thought that, given enough time, Lavender might come to see that Millicent meant something to her, too.

Only now, _now_ a month and a half later, she couldn't _stop_ thinking about it: she, and Lavender. She couldn't stop thinking about it: alone, at night, as her fingers probed between her legs with such desire, such urgency, such _release_.

"Christ," Millicent muttered, cradling her head in her broad, square hands, and sitting hunched over her textbooks.

"You alright, Millicent?"

"Hmm?" Millicent sat up as Lavender's now-familiar lilt reached her ear.

"Are you alright?" Lavender took her customary seat at the desk.

Millicent could've _sworn_ Lavender's knee brushed hers under the table.

"Yeah," she replied, "'m alright."

"You sure?"

Millicent nodded. "Yeah, of course. Just tired."

She took a deep breath. "Shall we get started?" Millicent looked away, determined to hide the blush rising in her cheeks (she was blushing, she knew; that she could _feel_ it was bad enough, she didn't need for Lavender to see it or worse – see it, and wonder why). She took out her Potions homework and a clean sheet of parchment.

"Actually, Millicent, can we – can we talk a minute?" Lavender reached out, covering Millicent's hand with her own to still its movements.

 _Shit_. Millicent swallowed, nervous. "Sure," she said, though she was anything but. "What about?"

Millicent watched as Lavender took a deep breath: as she inched forward in her seat; as she turned Millicent's hand over so that her palm was facing up, its fingers curving naturally and forming a kind of sheath into which Lavender slipped her own hand.

"It's just," Lavender started, looking at the desk, at the books, at the clock on the far wall – at anywhere other than at Millicent, "it's just ... all those things you said. Back then. Did you ... do you still think ..."

"What?" With Lavender's hand resting against her own, Millicent could hardly breathe.

"Do you still think that I'm ..."

"Yes?"

"... pathetic?"

Millicent exhaled; a great snorting sigh of incredulity. "No," she said, "of course not, Lavender; of course not."

Lavender nodded; she gave Millicent's hand a squeeze (oh, _Lord_ , the _warmth_ of her).

"Good," Lavender said. "Good. Because that might make this next thing tricky. If you still thought that."

Millicent shook her head. "Next thing? What're you on abo-"

Millicent, however, never got to finish asking what it was that Lavender was on about: Lavender leaned in with puckered lips and pressed them to Millicent's, mid-sentence. It was fleeting, a moment, but it was enough and as Lavender pulled back, flushed and smiling, Millicent tugged her forward into her arms, and kissed her with the need and passion of nearly two months' worth of frustrated desire.

Gasping, for breath but not daring to break the kiss, Lavender returned Millicent's fervour; murmurs stifled by the pressing of lips and whinnying, hastened breaths rising to a cacophony that was sure to draw Madam Pince's ire.

"Hrmph," Lavender breathed, finally extricating her lips from Millicent's. "Not here. Pince." She gestured in the direction of the librarian's desk with a jerk of her head. "C'mon," she whispered as she got to her feet, tugging Millicent along after her.

Hand-in-hand, they disappeared among the stacks, cloaked in the darkness and dust of the library's least-frequented locations.

Stumbling back against the shelves, Lavender pulled Millicent to her, placing a delicate kiss – chaste, almost, save for the surreptitious flick of her tongue – on Millicent's eager lips.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," Lavender whispered, resting her chin on Millicent's shoulder.

Millicent blinked hurriedly in confusion (she'd been spending much of her time confused lately). "You have?" she asked hoarsely.

She could feel Lavender's nod of assent against her shoulder as she replied: "Pretty much ever since you told me off, actually."

Millicent shook her head, but couldn't help smiling (she couldn't stop; she knew, that even if she tried she wouldn't be able to, not now). "Let's not go into what that says about you," she quipped, turning her head so that her cheek brushed Lavender's

"No," Lavender said, allowing a titter of a laugh to escape her full, pink lips; "let's not." Running her hands up over Millicent's neck and placing them at the base of her skull, Lavender pulled her in for another kiss.

Tongues searching, tasting, they moved against one another: fingers sought out handfuls of warm, pliable flesh, and breaths came in short, sharp gasps. Running the palms of her hands up over Lavender's sides, Millicent dared to caress her full, round breasts, her thumbs skimming over hardening nipples.

As she did, Lavender moved into her touch. "More," she panted into Millicent's mouth between kisses. "More."

Complying, Millicent stroked Lavender's nipples through her robes, running her thumb over them in steady, circular motions, drawing them to a peak that _ached_ , causing Lavender to stifle a cry.

"Fuck," she hissed; _"fuck."_

Craning her head downwards, Millicent took Lavender's nipples into her mouth and sucked through her robes, swirling her tongue over the starchy fabric. As she did, she pressed her knee upward, parting Lavender's legs. Lavender draped her arms over Millicent's shoulders, clinging to her. Hitching her knee up, Millicent watched Lavender's face – her full, flushed, pretty face – contort with pleasure as she ground down upon Millicent's driving knee; and as Lavender frotted against Millicent, Millicent could feel the heat between Lavender's legs; she could feel the damp seeping through the sheer fabric of her knickers and clinging to Millicent's skin and _Merlin_ it was glorious, it was everything she had wanted, _everything_ and now, now, now –

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Lavender almost spat against Millicent's cheek as she clung to her, twisting fistfuls of hair between her slender fingers and bucking against her knee; "oh _fuck fuck fuck!"_ she whinnied as she came, trembling in Millicent's arms.

  
"You alright?" Millicent asked, grinning ( _she_ had done that, _she_ had; she had wanted to for what seemed _so fucking long_ ).

"Yeah," Lavender replied, rolling her hips back and forth against Millicent. "Yeah, 'm alright."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I'm just ... tired," she sighed, content.

"Not too tired, I hope," Millicent said, smirking.

"I don't know, Millicent," Lavender said, "what about your Potions homework?"

"Fuck Potions," Millicent whispered pressing her cheek to Lavender's, feeling heady with desire, intoxicated by the aroma of Lavender's sex; _"fuck potions,"_ she repeated, breathless, _"and fuck me."_

 _  
_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hp_yule_balls 2010/11.


End file.
